


Chocolates, No Thanks.

by Rose_de_Noire



Series: Roquill Drabbles [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2473904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_de_Noire/pseuds/Rose_de_Noire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some fluffiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolates, No Thanks.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grocketinmypocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grocketinmypocket/gifts).



> This is something small I wrote for grocketinmypocket.  
> Also, I blame the idea on the roquill chat. ^.^  
> And it's only rated this high, as there are some curse words.

 

 

**Chocolates, No Thanks.  
**

The thing with dating a trigger-happy, foulmouthed Raccoon from outer space – not that he himself wasn't technically from outer space too – was, you couldn't present him with chocolate as it was pretty much poison for Rocket, nor flowers as Rocket hat deemed them too cheesy for cool guys like them. What ever cool guys meant in their case. Peter thought they where the coolest guys anyway, especially him. He had proofed this several times to Rocket, thank you very much. Nobody did have a hip-thrust and moves like him. In and out of the sack.

He stopped his rambling thoughts and looked around on the black market – everything here was black, not illegal – and decided to buy this pretty little black gun. It would do perfectly for their half year anniversary.  
  


Peter had been right. Rocket had loved the gun, though frowned at the shiny pink ribbon. Even dropped a scathing remark. Peter had shot back and they were bickering for the next half hour until Rocket had thrown the ribbon in their trash and gone to his corner where he proceeded to upgrade the gun.  
  
Peter kept the tradition up for the next three years. Half-year little guns, Valentines day explosives, Christmas bigger guns and for their anniversary huge fucking guns _and_ explosives. And each single one of them came with a ribbon in a disgustingly soft color, pink, baby-blue, mint, and so on, which Rocket instantly would chuck in the bin.  
  
It was their fourth year together, and Peter was about to do the unthinkable: He was going to propose to Rocket.  
So this gift needed a box as it had a card with it for once. He found himself sifting through Rocket's work space, looking for an empty box as he pulled one out from all below the workbench.  
Star-Lord opened the box – it would've been just the right size, and he fell back on his butt as he saw what was in it.  
Ribbons, every single ribbon he'd ever tied lovingly around a gun or an explosive. Every single disgustingly soft colored ribbon Rocket must have taken back out of the bin when none of them were looking.  
Peter still sat there an hour later, holding the ribbons against his chest and feeling all mushy and close to tears, and so, so much in love.

 


End file.
